Of Knights and Rooks
by redwalgrl-RG
Summary: Something's happened to the ship, and it's up to Kirk, Spock, and McCoy to find out just what; while parading around in one another's bodies. K/S/Mc slash. Rating subject to change.
1. Personal Space

Title

**Of Knights and Rooks**

**Chapter One: Personal Space**

Well… here it is, my first Star Trek fanfic. I definitely should have gotten into this series long ago, but there's nothing to be done about it now. Except obsess over it. More importantly, this fanfic will contain slash. Yes, m/m slash. If that doesn't float your boat, please back out of here quickly to avoid further retina scarring. Thank you, and have a nice day.

However, if you do like it, I'd love to see a review. Reviews make me write faster, after all!

My Star Trek knowledge is incomplete, so bear with me while I horribly screw some things up. Feel free to point them out to me, of course. Expect some OOC, for this _is_ intended to be humorous.

I do not own anything, nor am I profiting on this. But I'm sure you guessed that.

-+-

A rather loud beeping sound in his ear woke him before the pain did. Doctor McCoy pulled himself upright quickly, to find he had been thrown into Spock's station, and had definitely slammed his head against the monitors, thus the beeping noise. He groaned and glanced around the bridge to see the rest of the damage. The lights were dimmed, clearly a lack of power—at least to the bridge itself. Everyone else seemed unconscious, but alive thankfully. The Captain had been thrown clear of his seat and was the closest to him, so McCoy bent down and shook his shoulder. "Jim," He noted that his voice sounded a bit off, but that could be explained away due to however long he'd been unconscious. "Wake up. The crew…" He started, glancing over as Uhura stirred. "What happened?" The question wasn't directed to anyone in particular, though the communications expert turned her head slightly.

"I don't know." She replied, though the expression on her face was a bit odd. "We were being hailed by an oncoming vessel and then…" She trailed off with a small shrug. "I woke up. That's it."

The Captain stirred, sitting up with the shake of his head, expressionless. "Damage report?" He asked, brushing the doctor's hand off his shoulder as he stood, despite the fact that a clearly forming lump on his head had to be causing him a decent amount of pain, at least.

"Cap'n," The voice of Scott echoed over the comm., "we've lost our shields, an' power's been drained. It'll take a few days fer everythin' t' get back up'n runnin'."

The Captain was oddly silent, a pensive look taking hold on his face. McCoy frowned and crossed his arms, wondering what was taking so long for him to give the usual command of 'Get on with it, Mr. Scott.' "Jim," He started, moving closer to the gold-clad man.

Kirk practically jumped out of his thoughts, turning to look at the doctor, before a strange look crossed his face. Still nearly expressionless, but the look he was giving the doctor was unnerving. "Yes, Mr. Scott. Please continue."

Before McCoy had time to figure out what that look was for, a sound from behind the Captain's chair caught his attention. Perhaps it was one of the Yeomen, but on closer inspection, they were all back at their stations. It must have been Spock then, but what the hell was he doing over there? "Oh god, my head. Status report?" He asked, the voice sounding vaguely familiar, but McCoy was unable to place it. It was only as the man rose into view that he fully understood why the Captain had given him such an odd look.

Doctor McCoy stood behind that chair, rubbing his temples and looking about at the crew expectantly. Blank stares were all exchanged before Sulu, apparently having regained consciousness at some point, cautiously stated, "I believe there were a few injuries, sir."

Instead of the usual eyebrow-lift, the McCoy behind the chair frowned. "I meant of the ship itself, Mr. Sulu."

Before anymore blank stares could be passed, the Captain nodded toward the lift. "Doctor, Mr… ah… Spock, if you will." He started toward the lift, and as it opened, motioned for both McCoys to follow him. The one behind the chair continued to rub at his head, but didn't seem overly concerned. The one in the science station stared blankly, but finally followed.

"What the blue blazes is going on?" McCoy finally asked, mainly to the second McCoy. "And who the hell are you?"

The second McCoy looked rather miffed, immediately responding, "Captain James T. Kirk, as if you didn't already know that, Mr. Spock."

"What! I'm no damned green-blooded hobgoblin!"

"Clearly there has been some sort of mix-up." The Captain stated, hands clasped behind his back and speaking in a way that clearly marked him as anyone _but_ their fearless leader. "Captain, it appears as though you have taken on the appearance of the doctor. And Doctor McCoy, you appear to have taken on my appearance."

The doctor blinked, letting that information sink in, before tentatively reaching up to touch his ears. Sure enough, instead of curving in a circular shape, they rose up to points. "Oh hell," He breathed out, eyes wide. "You mean to tell me that…?"

"We've switched bodies?" Captain Kirk, in McCoy's body, finished, pulling on the hem of the blue short-sleeved shirt. "That's not possible, Spock."

"Apparently, it is." The science officer replied, not moving from his position. He ordered the lift to stop, keeping them suspended between two decks.

"What will we do?" McCoy was the first to ask, awkwardly folding his arms. Spock's arms seemed longer, but perhaps that was just his imagination playing games with him.

The Captain looked as though he was about to shrug, before suddenly getting that 'I have a great idea' look—one that didn't quite fit on McCoy's features. "Until we can figure out exactly what happened, gentlemen, we can't cause the crew to panic. Perhaps we're the only ones affected by this."

"Highly illogical," Spock, in Jim's body, interrupted, hands remaining in the neutral position behind his back. "Whatever force caused us to exchange appearances would undoubtedly affect more than just us three."

"Let's say _hypothetically_ it did." Kirk continued, brushing off Spock's remark with a shrug. Doctor McCoy shrugging off a remark from the Captain seemed a little odd, and the real McCoy was very glad they were alone on the lift. "If we're the only three who are mixed up. The crew would go nuts. And can you imagine the rumors? With over four-hundred people on my ship, I can't let it get out of control."

"You mean, his ship." McCoy pointed at Spock, who attempted to raise an eyebrow. Apparently Kirk's eyebrows weren't as flexible as the Vulcan's, for he merely managed a strained look. "He's in your body."

"Yes, yes…" Kirk mused, rubbing at his chin thoughtfully. "We'll have to pretend to be who we are right now, to avoid mass hysteria."

Spock didn't look overly pleased, but then again, that was the usual expression on Kirk's face. "Highly illogical." He murmured, more to himself than the other two. "Surely there's a better way…"

"That's an order," Kirk added, clapping a hand to the now-shorter man's shoulder. "Congratulations on making Captain, Mr. Spock."

McCoy could have sworn he heard the man sigh.

-+-

Several disorganized hours later, the trio managed to get a rather decent grasp on what was happening. Something had hit the ship—or fired on it—and they were currently running on backup power, with crews working to repair the ship. There had been no complaints of body-switching, so perhaps it really had only affected them. _Curious,_ Spock thought as he awkwardly mimicked Kirk's position of crossing one leg over the other. All his life he had been told that expressing one's emotions was wrong. That logic was the source of understanding. And now he had to act like the Captain. Thankfully it wasn't the Doctor, he would allow himself that brief emotion. Pretending to be angry all the time for ridiculous reasons would get tiresome.

"Captain to Mr. Scott. How are the engines looking?"

"Ach, sir, it'll take 'em quite a while t' get back up t' full power. We're doin' all we can down 'ere." Scott's voice crackled over the comm., before the device finally gave up and sputtered static.

Spock had to remember to frown before turning it off, wondering what the Captain would do. Would he go down there and help? But he might be needed up here. Logically he should send someone specialized down to see if Scott needed assistance. But the Captain was—more often than not—illogical. Especially in his approach toward the ship. Spock would admit, Kirk had saved them with his strange reasoning many times, but that didn't make it easy on him in this position.

"Stupid piece of junk," McCoy grumbled into the scanners, trying to figure out what the mass of numbers and decimal points was supposed to mean. How had this happened? And why did he have to reside in that green-blooded sonofabitch's body? He had long since given up trying to be stoic and emotionless, and a deep-seated frown was etched across Spock's face.

"Sir?" Uhura asked, glancing over at who she believed was the First Officer. She could have sworn she heard him cursing one of the machines he seemed so fond of.

"Hm?" McCoy glanced over, and stated, a bit loudly, "I didn't say anything. Perhaps your inferior human hearing has rendered you incapable of performing your duties?"

Uhura gasped, quite taken aback by the sudden attack. The last time anyone had seen Spock act irrational was Pon Farr, and that was certainly not something any of them wanted to see again.

Spock, in the Captain's body, had certainly heard that remark, and had to remember that he was supposed to be _Kirk_, which kept him from blocking it out emotionlessly. "Mr. Spock, come with me." He ordered, watching as the Doctor slid away from the science station. Again Spock tried for the eyebrow-lift, and again Kirk's face failed to pull it off. "What was that all about, Doctor?" It was asked so innocently, McCoy found it hard to believe it was genuine.

"Well what do you think!" He burst out in exasperation, folding his arms. "Here I am, stuck in _your_ body, having to deal with machines that make absolutely no sense! I'm a doctor, dammit, not a physicist!"

"On the contrary, Doctor. It makes perfect sense." Spock responded levelly, stopping the turbolift and exiting. McCoy recognized it as his hall, and was all too happy to see the Sickbay. Unfortunately, it wasn't in the proper order he'd left it in.

"What the hell's going on in here?" He asked, once again revealing that spike of temper that was so uncharacteristic of the body he was currently in. Luckily for the trio, no one else was in the Sickbay. Nurse Chapel had decided to take an early lunch after the morning's rather odd occurrences.

"Oh, Bones, there you are!" Kirk appeared from around a corner, seemingly interested in the many colored discs he was holding. "Did you know that there's some rather fascinating information on these, Spock?"

"I wouldn't have guessed."

"Put those back, Jim! You're running my organization! And those are private patient records!"

"I never knew you put Spock on suicide watch, Bones!" By now it had become a jest, and Kirk waved a disc in Spock's direction tauntingly. The other man settled for what appeared to be a blank look on Kirk's face, but was obviously his normal expressionless demeanor.

"Give me that!" McCoy snapped, making a lunge for it and catching Kirk's hand. McCoy had never been the fighter—that was the other two's job, but controlling the Vulcan's immense strength was certainly not something he had expected. The resounding _crack_ nearly had Spock wincing.

"Perhaps you should have remembered, Doctor. Vulcans are stronger than humans." He put in needlessly, as Kirk let out a rather pained whimper, and McCoy dragged him upright.

Gritting his teeth, the doctor put Kirk on the table (easier with the Vulcan's strength than he had imagined) and grabbed the hypodermic he needed. It was odd, examining a broken wrist on his own body, but he was the doctor here. "Now would be a great time to put that logic of yours to use and shut the hell up!"

Spock's silence indicated that while obeying, he was rather miffed about it. The expression on the Captain's body, however, was nearly one of confusion. McCoy briefly wondered if Spock really didn't know much about expressing emotions, but remembered he had a broken wrist to attend to. _His_ broken wrist. Sweet Jesus, this was going to get confusing real damn fast.


	2. Private Affairs

Of Knights and Rooks

**Of Knights and Rooks**

**Chapter Two: Private Affairs**

Thank you so much for the kind reviews! While I believe the first chapter could have been longer, I do believe it was decent. Which means I'll just have to try harder on the next chapters. Unfortunately, I cannot write a decently in-character Kirk, so he will remain horribly OOC. Sorry.

Also, this chapter contains more 'Teen' appropriate material than just language. Still no yaoi yet, but I do stress the rating on this fanfiction to you all. Just to be safe, of course.

And if I spelled 'M'Benga' wrong, I'm incredibly sorry.

-+-

"Hey, I was here first!"

"Get outta the way!"

"Move it, asshole!"

Ah, the mess hall around six-thirty. Definitely the time the senior officers tried to avoid, but as always, the trio made their way in to be roughly shoved aside by their subordinates. Kirk immediately went in for a punch—because everything is better with an action scene, right?—but McCoy caught his shoulder and pulled him back. Kirk frowned and placed his hands on his hips, the Doctor's body registering sullen disappointment. "I could've taken him."

"I don't doubt that." McCoy responded with a small sigh, and pushed the Captain toward the inevitably long line that lead to the food replicators. There were just never enough of them.

From behind him, the Captain cleared his throat. Spock stated quietly, "You do remember, Mr. Spock, that you dislike meat—especially that of the 'bar-be-que' style that appears to be so common in the southern United States."

McCoy gritted his teeth. He could have sworn Spock was doing this purposefully. Oh yeah, that Vulcan had no sense of humor alright. "I'll try to keep that in mind, Jim."

When his name was mentioned, Kirk turned, raising his eyebrows questioningly. On McCoy, it somehow or other managed to look awkward. "What?"

"Just shut up and stop waving your arm around." McCoy glowered in response. True enough, Kirk couldn't seem to keep still—but perhaps that was the Doctor's body rather than the man inside it. Kirk was bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet, something neither Spock nor McCoy had seen their Captain do. "And move before someone cuts you."

"Cuts?" Spock asked, once again vainly trying to raise one of the Captain's eyebrows. "You believe someone on board this ship would have reason to harm the Doctor?"

"What?" McCoy and Kirk asked simultaneously. Two blank expressions greeted Spock as the Vulcan in the Captain's body turned. "We'll explain later." The Captain smiled and clapped his good hand to Spock's—technically, his own—shoulder.

The Vulcan nodded and the trio finally made their way to the replicators, jostling the discs until the appropriate dishes were picked out and created by the machines. Spock eyed the strange food that was clearly the Captain's choice and once again attempted the eyebrow-lift. "What is it?"

"It's a hamburger." Kirk stated with a slight smile. "I'm sure you'll like it."

The expression on the Captain's face read disbelief, but Spock didn't complain further. They took up a table in the back corner, more or less to avoid being stared at by the rest of the crew. By now a brawl had broken out in the middle of the room, and Kirk got up to join immediately, pushed back down by McCoy. "Oh come on, Bones—err, Spock. My wrist feels fine now."

"Doesn't matter. You'll just injure yourself further, and I don't want to have to heal you again." McCoy grumbled and poked at the vegetarian dish glumly. How did Spock survive on vegetables alone? He didn't even take any supplemental pills, not that McCoy knew of, of course. Maybe the Vulcan really was trying to do away with himself. Hmm.

Kirk relented, diving into the dish McCoy had picked out for him. At least they were both human, and had similar tastes. He seemed to be the only one satisfied with his meal. The other two went untouched. "So what are we going to do about rooms—"

He was interrupted by a sudden shout of his name, causing the trio to turn curiously. "Oh, Jim!" Uh oh, it was his current flavor of the week, and she had apparently discovered McCoy's rather vast collection of alcoholic beverages. She tripped and landed in Spock's lap—which seemed to be her intention—and giggled wildly.

The emotion on the Captain's face was somewhere between disgust and confusion, but Spock's voice remained neutral as he spoke, "I believe you're drunk, madam."

"Ahahaha, you're so cute, Jimmy," She slurred, pulling herself upright and making herself at home on his lap. Spock shot the other two a look that clearly read _help me_.

"Good luck with that, Captain." Kirk smiled wickedly and gave a fake salute before sauntering off. If that girl could get into McCoy's alcohol, then so could he! And what a great time to get drunk! He wasn't even in charge of the ship right now!

McCoy watched him go and shook his head. "Good luck." He added, raising one of Spock's eyebrows, decently passing for the First Officer. With that, he started off to the rooms, deciding that he'd have to take Spock's room rather than his own. After all, if they needed to contact someone in the middle of the night, they'd get a hold of the wrong person if they didn't switch rooms. This was so confusing.

Nurse Chapel was in the turbolift when he entered, but it didn't strike McCoy as anything awkward until she spoke up. "M-Mr. Spock," She started, hands clasped awkwardly in front of her.

Oh yes, that's right, McCoy reminded himself. He was supposed to be Spock. Oh, and Christine _liked_ Spock! Suddenly, he understood that evil grin on Kirk's face from earlier. There was a certain fun in tormenting the First Officer. "Miss Christine, I have been meaning to ask you something." McCoy certainly wasn't one to lead a woman on. Not at all. But if he was stuck as Spock, then why not entertain the poor girl a bit? After all, Spock was downright cruel to her, in his opinion at least. "Would you be interested in discussing some things with me, over dinner?"

She turned a bright red and mumbled something incoherent, followed by a frantic nod. McCoy had to control the urge to grin. "Excellent. Thank you, Miss Chapel." He exited once the lift stopped on his floor, clearly pleased with himself. That would teach that green-blooded hobgoblin to be rude to a woman!

Meanwhile, Spock had managed to evade the drunken woman and escape to the Captain's room. He briefly wondered why the walls were a pink-lavender color, but dismissed it as irrelevant. He started to remove his shirt, and then paused. He was in Captain Kirk's body. Which meant he had to take care of the Captain's body, but seeing the Captain's body nude? He noted Kirk's face turning red in the mirror, and wondered what that meant.

There was a knock on the door, and Spock turned to exit, pushing the shirt back on. "Yes?" He asked as he allowed the door to slide open, revealing McCoy's body, with the Captain inside. "Yes, Bones?" He hesitated before using the Captain's little nickname for the Doctor. It was quite informal an odd choice for a doctor's name, but it was the way Kirk addressed him most often.

"Oh, that's right; this is your room now." Kirk nodded slightly. He hadn't been able to open the case that held McCoy's alcohol with only one good hand. "…Spock." He entered and the door slid shut, allowing him to speak freely. "You didn't do anything with the Yeoman?"

"Captain," Spock seemed quite taken aback. "It is not Pon Farr, and I would not wish to lead her on."

Kirk frowned, and then added, "Well, it seems as if my body disagrees with your decision."

"What?" Spock was genuinely confused, trying to raise an eyebrow. "I don't understand, Captain."

"I'll have McCoy explain it to you later," The Captain stated evasively, waving his good hand as if to forget the whole thing. "Just make sure to take a cold shower." With that, he departed, leaving Spock staring at the space he had been previously, confused.

"Cold shower…?"

-+-

It was incredibly difficult for the three to sleep that night, but that might have had something to do with the fact that they were passing by an incredibly bright star. Regardless, McCoy found himself tangled in the sheets at 0300, unable to keep his eyes shut. He felt tired, but it seemed that Spock's body didn't. The Doctor grumbled and rolled over again, slipping off the bed in a tangle of sheets and limbs. "Auugh!" He fought against the sheets until finally disentangling himself.

Maybe a walk around the ship will help, McCoy thought with a sigh. He located Spock's other uniforms (all perfectly neat and flawless—how did he manage to get the wrinkles out of those pants?) and quickly dressed, yawning as he slipped out of the room.

"You too?"

He glanced over at the voice, and nearly laughed. Kirk was standing outside McCoy's room, arms crossed and looking pissed as hell. "Me too."

Kirk pushed himself off the wall and started walking, as if he'd been waiting for McCoy to appear. "Spock already went wandering. Said he had to check the pressure chambers in the engines, or something." Which really meant that he didn't want to be accompanied by anyone.

"Probably going off to meditate." McCoy had heard about that, of course, but it was far more obvious from the moment he'd entered the Vulcan's room. He certainly didn't understand how it worked, but that wasn't really his concern anyway. It wasn't like he'd have to attempt to meditate in public, or anything.

"Let's go get coffee!" Kirk decided, steering them in the direction of the Mess Hall. "I'll never get any sleep anyway. C'mon, Bones—err, Spock."

"Coffee? It's three A.M.! Do you know what that will do to you?" McCoy folded his arms irritably. "You're not going to drink any coffee this early in the morning! Doctor's orders."

"But you're not my doctor, Spock." Kirk smirked, and McCoy had to check the urge to hit him. After all, a light punch between friends was fine, but Spock wasn't exactly able to throw a light punch.

Surprisingly—or maybe not, considering the bright star they were passing—there were several other crew members in the Mess Hall, mostly sitting apart and drinking coffee. McCoy gave them a reproachful glare, but luckily no one caught it. "Morning, gentlemen." Kirk greeted, walking over to the replicators and selecting the ever-popular coffee disc. He put two in, and offered one to McCoy.

The Doctor refused, partially because he wasn't sure what it would do to the Vulcan's body. And if it kept him awake any longer, he'd go insane. "No thank you, Doctor."

"Suit yourself." Kirk shrugged and slipped into a seat across from Scott. "Can't sleep?"

"Not even a sedative could put me t' sleep with all this 'ere light." Scott grumbled, draining the last of his third cup of coffee. McCoy remained standing and folded his arms, glaring at him. Didn't he know what all that coffee would do to him?

It seemed as though no one would pay attention to the Doctor—or rather, Spock—because they ignored him and continued on about some various ship gossip. Of course the Captain and his ever-present friends managed to find out about it one way or another, but it was usually nothing of interest. McCoy started to head toward the door when he heard his own name, whispered in the hushes between two Yeomen. The two women nearly had their noses in each other's coffee, whispering so that not even Kirk, from a few tables away, could hear them.

"You know what I heard?" The first one asked, cupping her hand over her mouth. Spock's sensitive hearing was able to pick it up, and McCoy stopped and pretended to be interested in the stars they were passing.

"What?" The second woman asked, not quite as discreet as the former.

"Shh! Keep your voice down." The first warned, scooting closer and droping her voice even lower. It still didn't stop McCoy from hearing her though, "The Captain, and Mr. Spock—"

"Oh, not that rumor again." She interrupted. "It's been going around for ages, Anne, haven't you heard it? 'The Captain and Spock are more than just friends,' and, 'they're hooking up in their spare time,' and what was the other one? Oh yes, 'McCoy's always in on it too.'"

Both of Spock's eyebrows shot up in McCoy's astonishment, and he quickly left before Kirk could try to stop him. He had heard the rumors about the Captain and Spock's so-called relationship (funny story, actually. Spock had avoided the Captain for awhile, believing that _he_ was the one giving the wrong impression), but adding him in there was bordering on an outrage. The girls were lucky that they were women, or he'd have probably chewed them out right there. But as it was, McCoy was a gentleman, and he wouldn't dream of embarrassing them like that.

However, if this conversation spread any further, he'd wring their ungrateful little necks. Or maybe next time he'd put something in the hypodermics. That would show them! Of course he wasn't serious, but it did put the Doctor in a better mood, and he returned to Spock's room, finally able to get some rather uneasy rest.

-+-

What the second woman had said was apparently not as widespread or as common as she had thought. By noon the next day, everyone on the ship was talking about it hushed whispers. That didn't stop the trio from hearing about it though. Uhura might have been a master at Communications, but that earpiece must have worn out her hearing a bit, for she certainly was discussing it with Sulu rather loudly when the trio entered the Bridge.

"Something interesting?" Spock had adopted to the role of Kirk fairly easily by now, McCoy had noticed. It was odd, to see Kirk acting the way he normally did—but yet to know Spock was the one forcing the movements. He almost felt a bit sorry for the Vulcan, having to strip himself of his pride just to keep this all a secret. Well, at least he'd learn some humility in the process!

Sulu and Uhura shook their heads far too quickly for it to be deemed real, but Spock didn't press. He'd obviously heard it, and the rather troubled look that appeared on Kirk's face read it all clearly. "Return to your post, Miss Uhura."

"Right away, sir."

McCoy seated himself in Spock's usual chair, eyeing the equipment critically. He didn't know how to work it yesterday, and a hasty explanation from the Science Officer on the turbolift to the Bridge hadn't helped any. It was still just a bunch of _beeps_ and flashing lights to him. He started looking for a pattern in the lights to stave off the boredom within the first few minutes, when the ship suddenly rocked.

"What was that?" Kirk, as McCoy, had been tossed over the red railings that separated Communication from the Captain's chair. He looked unharmed, but definitely determined to figure out what it was. That was their mission, wasn't it? To figure out what hostile life forms kept attacking them and beat them into submission? Right?

The screen flashed once, then static filled it completely, letting out a high-pitched wail. Everyone onboard covered their ears, McCoy absolutely hating the Vulcans' sensitive hearing with every passing second. How did Spock survive this sort of thing with a straight face anyway?

Spock, who had managed to stay in Kirk's chair, turned to Uhura for an explanation. He didn't even have to say anything, she was already on it, while trying to block out the horrible sound. "It's not coming from Communications, sir," She practically had to yell over the noise.

"It's not the screen either, Captin," Checkov added, examining the supposed source of the noise.

"Captain to Scott," Spock hit the button and waited for the message to go through. "Is there a malfunction with the power supply?"

The message that came back was full of static and barely audible, "No, not any error down 'ere that we can see, sir. We'll keep our eyes on it."

"Please do," Spock added, trying to figure out what else it could be, when the horrid noise suddenly stopped. The personal on the Bridge all let out a silent sigh of relief—except McCoy, who had to refrain from any sort of expression while in Spock's body.

"Sickbay to Doctor McCoy," The communicator blared, Christine Chapel's voice on the other end. "There are a few ruptured ear drums, we'll need you down here."

Kirk didn't seem to realize they were talking to him, and blinked a few times in confusion. Ruptured eardrums? Was that even possible? "Oh, uh, yes, I'll be right down, Miss Chapel." He started for the turbolift, turning to give Spock a rather helpless look.

"Spock, why don't you go assist him?" The Vulcan turned to a rather relieved McCoy, who followed Kirk out of the room without complaint. The ride on the turbolift was silent, with Kirk deep in thought about the incident. McCoy was far more worried about the patients. But how could he heal them if he was in Spock's body? He couldn't properly tell Kirk how to do it either. He'd manage to mess it up somehow.

"Ah, there you are, Doctor. Oh, and Mr. Spock." Christine went red as she noticed the presumed-Vulcan and scooted out of the way without another word. Kirk glanced around at the Sickbay, noticing that all the beds were taken. Great. This was going to be fun. Doctor M'Benga was currently working on one of the patients, sparing a half-smile at the doctor as they entered.

"I'm a captain, not a doctor!" Kirk hissed between his teeth as he rounded on McCoy, poking the other man in the chest. One of Spock's eyebrows immediately rose in response.

"That's my line," McCoy pointed out, spinning Kirk around. "Let's just try to get through this, alright? I'll tell you what you need to do."

Kirk didn't seem overly pleased, but set about doing what McCoy told him to do, ignoring the odd looks from the nurse and the other doctor.


End file.
